Just Keep Your Eyes On Me
by laurzz
Summary: Everlark. Post games. Canon-ish. Katniss and Peeta are subjected to their adoring fans over the course of the Victory Tour. How does Peeta bring Katniss back from her living nightmare in front of an adoring crowd?


**A/N: Here I am with another venture into The Hunger Games world. I'm in absolute love with all of the stories out there and every now and then I'll get the urge to share something of my own. I hope if you read this, you enjoy! **

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><p><em>Just keep your eyes on me, never lose sight of me.<em>

_-This Love, LeAnn Rimes._

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><p>I reach out a shaking hand and force myself to pick up the dress that has been staring at me for the last thirty minutes. Cinna made it but I have to wonder if Peeta had anything to do with it. Even though Cinna and I have never spoken about my favourite colour, Peeta and I have. The dress currently staring back at me is my exact favourite colour of green. It's more me. Perfectly me. There's no feathers, no fancy frills… just simple. I finally decide to just put the dress on – it's not like I have a choice anyway. It's 'my night' as Effie kindly keeps reminding me. It's actually mine <em>and <em>Peeta's night but Effie evidently feels the need to convince me more than him.

Rather than just changing and showering in our expansive Victor's houses Effie insisted we used the facilities in the Justice Building – what she calls the 'heart of District 12'. She thought it would be a brilliant idea, bringing us back to where it all started but I can't think of anything worse as I stand here and take in my surroundings. It takes me back to the moment of panic, knowing I had no choice but to volunteer. I knew I had to save Prim. All the times I'd taken out tesserae in my name… all the times I'd gone under the fence and risked being caught for poaching had all been for no reason as Prim's name left Effie's lips. I'd failed to do the one thing I'd set out to do.

Just as the green, silky material of the dress settles against my body, Effie bursts through the door with her neck-breaking high heels. She drives me crazy when she struts around. She drives me even crazier when she hands me a pair and tries to get me to follow her ridiculous lead in them.

"Oh good, you're changed…. Hurry hurry!" she says in her anxious, excited voice that I've come realise is her normal, usual voice. "Your adoring fans await you-"

She continues to blather on about the _fans _but I stop listening. I physically hate the idea of anyone adoring me. I don't want it, nor do I need it – especially from the people who knew me as Katniss and not the _Girl on Fire. _I decide on smiling politely instead of showing Effie the true horror coursing through my veins. It hasn't been easy but I've come to realise that Effie appreciates smiles, nods, oohs, aahs and no questions.

As she's leaving I turn and notice Peeta standing in the doorway. He has his hand pressed against his chest in a gesture that I haven't seen in years. I remember my father looking at my mother like that on a daily basis. While it's unnerving seeing Peeta's starry eyed expression as he looks at me, his gesture of his hand against his heart reminds me of my Dad. It gives me a little bit of solace in the manic environment I've seemingly found myself in.

My thoughts are disturbed by Effie's laughs and mutterings of 'clueless Katniss,'. She then excitedly announces that she's going to give us five minutes alone before the 'festivities' start. As the door shuts I sigh in relief. "She's so overbearing sometimes," I mutter, not necessarily to Peeta, but more to myself.

Peeta laughs, but is still close to the door. When I look over, I realise he's still looking at me.

"Peeta?" I say cautiously. He blushes under my confused scrutiny.

"Sorry-" he finally says, "I just… you look beautiful Katniss. That dress is so… you."

I smile at him; one of my real genuine smiles. "Actually, I was just thinking that."

"I think it's my favourite that you've worn," Peeta adds and I find that I can't help but agree with him.

"Thank you," I say softly, running my fingertips over the plush velvet on the couch cushions I'm stood close to.

"So, are you ready?" he asks me as he takes a seat on the velvet couch.

I huff and roll my eyes. "Do I have a choice either way?"

"No I suppose not," he shrugs "At least we're with familiar faces for this one."

I only shrug in response. I almost don't want to share my concerns but it's Peeta and I'm trying my hardest to let him in. Even though I would never admit it, I need him. I need him right now more than I've needed anyone. He's the only one that understands. He's the only one that knows how I feel. Gale tries. Prim tries. But they don't know what _this _feels like. Only Peeta can give me comfort; knowing that I'm not the only one that feels this way.

"Go on," he presses his lips together and for a moment I fear I've just said everything I was thinking out loud. "What is it?" he asks.

I roll my eyes and sigh. He knows me so well. I don't even know whether Gale has ever known my thoughts this well. He knows what I'm thinking when I'm in the forest with a bow in my hands. But my actual day-to-day thoughts; I feel Peeta knows me better than I know myself.

"Do… people look at you differently?"

Peeta sighs for a moment and I can tell he's trying to find a way to give me an answer to my question that doesn't crush me. "Katniss… why do you think I don't work at the bakery anymore?"

"Your mother?" I feel this is a viable possibility.

"I wish it was." He frowns before adding, "People can't help but stare. They're friendly enough but it's clear what they're thinking."

I frown. I know exactly what he is insinuating. We're Victors now. We aren't the children they once knew. We're different, damaged goods now.

"It's just easier," he continues. "Plus, my mother isn't the easiest person to work alongside." Peeta's smile tugs at his lips and I can't help but feel a pang of heartbreak in my chest. I shared Peeta's sleeping space in the weeks after we returned from the games. We were both struggling. We couldn't function with one another because of his feelings and the lack of mine, but we couldn't function without each other because we make each other feel safe. He knows why I wake up screaming, just like how I know why he wakes up breathless. Except some nights I used to wake up to Peeta begging someone to stop hitting him. Often he'd be promising not to do it again. It was only the once. Never again. Based on the sobs he'd release, I was always left with the niggling feeling that his pleas used to fall on deaf ears. Even in his sleep filled mutterings, my heart broke for him and the life he'd had to endure. I'm not naïve enough to completely miss the fact that Peeta's strength didn't suddenly materialise in the games. He's had a hard life too. I used to see the bruises at school. I often overheard him telling his friends stories like Rye had caught him while they were messing around… or Bannock had thrown something and he'd missed. They weren't stupid and neither am I. I know what Peeta had to endure at home. But rather than letting it break him, it made him stronger. He's so full of goodness, it confuses me. He has every right in the world to be bitter, angry and hateful. He's seen so much, after all... but somehow he's the kind, caring, loving Peeta that I've come to care for.

I sigh heavily as I plop down onto the velvety couch next to him. He takes my hand and squeezes it softly. "Katniss, it'll be okay. We only have two weeks of this and then we're done… at least until the games."

"When it starts all over again." It's the end to his sentence that he didn't want to say.

"Maybe so," he shrugs, "but we have each other to get through it. No other victor has that. No-one has what we have Katniss. We have each other… I know how you feel Katniss. You're okay with me. You're safe."

I look Peeta in the eyes and I realise that I never really give Peeta the credit he deserves. I'm so busy pushing him away that actually; he's everything I could possibly need in one package. What I'm desperately looking for his here in front of me. And then I remember how that worked out for my mother and I shut down again. I can't let Peeta in. Not now, not ever.

"I know that look." He sighs. "It's the same look you gave me on the train. I'm not asking you to toast bread with me Katniss… I'm asking for you to trust me, to lean on me when you need support. That's all. I know how you feel. Yes, you know how I feel about you, and I still feel that way but I know that you don't. I respect that. I also know about how your Dad dying affected your Mom. I know you don't want that for yourself."

My eyes stare at him, unblinking. _But how? _I've never told him about that side of me. He doesn't know why I am the way that I am. I've made sure he doesn't see that side of me… except, he apparently knows. How? My eyes obviously ask the question for me.

"You talk in your sleep." He says, a tinge of pink staining his cheeks.

"So do you," I whisper in return. He still has hold of my hand and it feels warm. "I just… I wish… I wish it was easier. I wish I could love you the way you want me to, Peeta. It's just… it's not that easy."

"Shhh," he says, holding a finger to my lips as I stumble over my words. "I know. I'm not asking you to make yourself fall in love with me. I don't want that. All I want is for you to feel safe and be happy. I'd also like for you to trust me, lean on me. I'm actually a pretty good friend, you know?"

"Thank you," I whisper against his fingertip. As he smiles in response, the door bursts open.

"You two done yet?" It's Haymitch. "Effie's out there going into cardiac arrest because she doesn't feel it's appropriate to disturb victors."

"Which you clearly have no problems about," Peeta quips.

"We're gonna be late." Haymitch grouses, "Hurry up, okay? The sooner we get out there, the sooner we can go home."

Haymitch slips out of the doorway and into the hallway as Peeta stands from the couch. "Ready?" he asks me with a smile.

I stand and offer him a shaky nod. "As ready as I'll ever be." I finally answer with a shaky voice. I swallow the lump in my throat as Peeta lets go of my hand and we follow Haymitch down the hallway. I can hear my breathing increase – I'm panicking. I try all the techniques my mother and Prim told me about. They've suggested counting to ten as I release slow breaths. Then Prim suggested that if I failed with that, I could go through what I know to be true. I know that I'm safe, I'm not in the games anymore. I'm alive… which is fine – but at what cost? How many others had to die so Peeta and I could live? Everything I try is useless. I can feel my surroundings closing in on me. Peeta is turning periodically and I'm aware that he's looking more and more often as I scramble for breath and to try and calm myself down but it's no use. I know he knows something is wrong. He's Peeta. He reads me like his favourite book. He slows down so that he is next to me as I begin to feel the tears slipping down my cheeks. He checks our surroundings before grabbing my arm. He pulls me into the nearest unlocked room. He shuts the door and presses me up against it.

"Ok, breathe Katniss." His voice is calm and everything that I need right now.

"I am." I stammer.

"Breathe properly," he has his hands interlinked with mine and I realise I don't even know when he took hold of them.

"I'll be fine," I say, getting ready to move away from the door but his body keeps me in place. I always forget how strong he is.

"I've got you Katniss. You're safe here with me. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

"I know," I whisper – and it's true. I know for an absolute fact that Peeta would do anything to keep me safe. He has. More than once. He lost his leg because he was trying to keep me safe. Having him close, just him, is making me calm down somewhat. I feel my heartbeat slowing. I can still hear the rumblings of the crowd gathered outside of the Justice Building, which I think is what triggered my panic in the first place. When I'm with Peeta none of that seems to matter.

"Just keep your eyes on me," he says, "Never lose sight of me." He lowers his voice and closes the distance between us. I don't think it's intentional on his part but I can feel his breath on me. I don't know what comes over me but as he closes in I press my lips to his. His lips are soft; softer than they were in the games. As our lips connect, I feel my heart rate increase but for a completely different reason entirely. I pull my lips away reluctantly and instantly blush. "I-I'm sorry," I stammer, but he interrupts me.

"Don't ever feel like you have to apologise for that; especially if it's real." He squeezes my hand and I feel myself calming significantly. He lets go of one of my hands and pulls me away from the door so that he can open it with his now free hand. He leads me out of the empty room – and right into Effie's maniacal melt-down.

"Do _either _of you have any _manners!?_" She shrieks. "You can't just _disappear _like that! We are late! Stop being so selfish – your fans are waiting for you!" Peeta squeezes my hand and I can't help but think of the irony of this entire situation. We're the rude ones? We're the ones inconveniencing everyone else? I squeeze Peeta's hand in return to his reassurance as Effie leads us through the double doors. Just as we reach the doors, she stops and turns.

"Well," she begins, "the last time I led you through these doors you were tributes. Now you're both my victors. Isn't it funny how things work? The Games have given you both so much…" she continues to ramble on but I stop listening. Instead, I make a mental list of all the things the games have taken from Peeta and I. She opens the door and we can hear the rumbling of the crowds. Peeta's hands are sweaty and my heart is in my throat.

It's surreal being back on the podium. I look out at the crowd, searching for Prim's face, knowing she's there somewhere. My eyes scan the crowd for familiar faces and as my eyes settle on one, my heart stops dead in my chest. I blink and the face I could see has gone. Clove's glassy, lifeless eyes are no longer staring at me but they are still torturing me. I know the girl who has dark hair, like me, from the seam. I actually know her from both the seam and school. She's smiling at me and I offer a mild smile back purely because I am outright staring at her as my brain adjusts to the notion that Clove isn't really here in the crowd. I realise that she is blushing at my smile. It nauseates me. I know this girl. I _know _her. I've scowled at her in the past as she takes the last spare gym skirt in P.E. I've borrowed pencil lead from her a thousand times – and now she's star struck. I look away from her and continue to look for Prim as Effie chatters on. I swallow heavily. Marvel, the boy I shot with my arrow is stood in the crowd. I blink, swallow and then realise he's gone – a young Merchant boy stands in his place, waving desperately at Peeta. I tighten my hold on Peeta's hand that is still holding mine. I just hope he knows I'm saying 'help me'.

I decide enough is enough. No more of the fallen tributes I barely got the chance to know are going to haunt me. I search the crowd, now determined to find Prim – and that's when I see her. Her long eyelashes, the bunches in her hair. Her sweet, innocent smile. Her dark, flawless complexion. Rue is there staring up at me. I can't help the whimper that escapes my throat. My whimper even distracts Effie momentarily from her spiel about how _lucky Peeta and I are _and how _generous the capitol is. _She recovers well and Peeta traces his thumb over my hand in an attempt to soothe me. I search for Rue's face and I see her again – this time, she's somewhere else in the crowd. My heart is racing and I am panicking. I'm trapped. I can hear the screams from the Cornucopia ringing in my ears. I can hear Cato's painful sobs as the mutts tortured him. Right as I am about to lose my last ounce of composure in the front of Panem, Peeta turns and swipes a tendril of hair behind my ear. It looks like an affectionate act from a boy to his girl and even I'm confused what compelled him to do that until his mouth is pressed against my ear.

"Stay with me," he whispers.

"I'm trying," I reply breathlessly.

"Don't let it take you from me. _Stay_, Katniss."

"I can't Peeta," I whisper, my voice trembling.

"Keep your eyes on me." He says as if he knows what's going on in my messed up head.

"I… Peeta…" Instead of me finishing my plea, he closes the distance and this time it's him kissing me. I feel my cheeks blushing as I realise that Effie has stopped her speech. I know everyone is staring at us, witnessing something that should be private and personal. But the Capitol and the rest of Panem feel entitlement to every part of our life now. Peeta eventually pulls away and smirks in Effie's direction.

"Sorry," he begins, "I just… I couldn't help it. I was just a little overwhelmed that Katniss and I made it back home. It is an honour for both Katniss and I to be here with you all today."

I turn to look at him and I realise just how fantastic Peeta is. Panem now thinks that we are proud victors, not terrified, crazy sixteen year olds. I plaster a smile on my face and conclude that my eyes will not leave Peeta's face until we are off the podium.

I know that my feelings are conflicted. I'm confused and scared – but one thing I do know is that Peeta will always be the one thing I am thankful to the Games for. He is my boy with the bread. He is my life line; my rock. Despite how unclear everything is for me right now and where we stand, I know that for the next few hours as we both meet and greet people, I will be wherever he is.

Almost as if he can hear my thoughts, he turns and whispers to me as the crowds applaud the end of Effie's speech.

"Remember, just keep your eyes on me; never lose sight of me."

And I can honestly say that I will be no-where other than by his side.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading - I do hope you enjoyed this. if you did, please feel free to leave a comment or send me a message. I'd love to know what you thought. If you're on tumblr, come find me and let's fangirl together... I'm laurzz6! <strong>


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